


That The Best You Got?

by DomesticatedTendencies



Series: Thinking Out Loud [1]
Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: ALL THE FLUFF, Alternate Universe - No Zombie Apocalypse, Bad Pick Up Lines, F/M, Fluff, Gratuitous use of flaxseed, Hipsters, Like Whoa, Oblivous Beth Greene, Smooth Daryl Dixon, Smooth like jazz, Stalker Daryl Dixon, Surprise Ending, Why don't people order black coffee anymore?, bethyl, does Starbucks make sandwiches?, it's probably in a Starbuck, like it's definitely happening, there Nellie, this may become a series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-23 02:18:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11980011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DomesticatedTendencies/pseuds/DomesticatedTendencies
Summary: Daryl Dixon's POV on overpriced coffee, hipsters, and beautiful oblivious women.





	That The Best You Got?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bishmonster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bishmonster/gifts).



He was late. The coffee shop already had a line halfway to the door by the time he got there. Stupid millennials with their no-foam-all-foam-sugar-free-half-caff-no-fat-extra-soy bullshit. Why couldn't they just order it black? Simple. Easy. No bullshit. No mile long line when he was already fifteen minutes in to his lunch hour.

He honestly hated the place. It was too crowded and way overpriced. Who ever heard of paying $2.95 for a goddamn drip coffee? Plus the only sandwiches they sold had weird shit in them like flaxseeds and micro-greens. Just once he wanted to find a place that had a good old fashion fried bologna on white. He'd pay double if it came with Miracle Whip and a side of chips.

But the big chain coffee shop with its high polished wood and exposed ventilation was less than a block from the garage where he worked. He could walk it in the time it took him to suck down a smoke and he was all about that convenience. Then while he waited in line behind some douchebag on his cellphone talking about beard oil or some shit, he spied his other reason for frequenting the place. 

She was the prettiest goddamn thing sitting there in the far corner of the narrow bar along the window lined wall; long golden hair pulled back from the sweetest most delicate face he had ever seen. She didn't wear makeup - didn't need it as far as he was concerned - and he watched as she chewed a fleshy lip. She had her nose in a book and a pair of earbuds in her ears and was twisting the cord around her finger, the nod of her head keeping the beat to whatever the hell she was listening to today. Seeing her made suffering the stuck up hipsters and pain-in-the-ass baristas worth it. He could watch her all day. 

She didn't even notice him. Hard to believe considering he stuck out like a goddamn sore thumb among the ironic cat shirts and fashionably distressed skinny jeans. With his mechanics coveralls undone to the waist, the sleeves tied to keep them above his hips, there was no telling what color his stained undershirt was meant to be except some shade of dark. His lank dark hair was greasy and hung in front of his eyes and his nails were never clean. There was no reason for a girl like her to take notice of a guy like him except maybe to ask him to change a flat all while she kept a tighter hold on her purse. Couldn't say he’d blame her neither. Dirty old man creepin’ on some pretty young thing the way he was.

“Turkey sandwich and an arabica dark roast for Daryl.”

Coffee. He had ordered a damn coffee. And he didn't care what they called it - that wasn't no turkey sandwich. It was more like a salad with a slice of meat stuck between two pieces of whole-grain-gluten-free-organic-supposed-to-be-bread bullshit. Without even moving from the pick up window, he dismantled the “sandwich”, picking off the slices of tomato, cucumber, and goddamn micro-greens while the guy behind the counter stared at him in horror. Asshole probably thought he needed a “safe space” or some shit because words hurt. Daryl grunted at him. Licking his fingers he took his lunch to go.

There was no place for him to sit. Some guy in a grandpa sweater the exact color of puke had taken up the last empty seat at the bar, right next to the girl of his dreams. 

Wonderful. 

It was fine. She still hadn't noticed him and today he didn't care. She was in her own world and he was perfectly happy to sit back and watch. The couple at the small table behind her cleared out and he swooped in, claiming it before anyone else could. 

Despite the bad acoustics and the echo of too many voices he was close enough that he could just make out the tiny bass of the music coming from her earbuds. He smirked. He knew the song. And her scent. Like a bloodhound, he could smell the cinnamon and apples on her. She smelled like fall and it made his tongue prick with hunger in a way his shitty sandwich never could.

“Excuse me.” 

The guy in the ugly sweater was trying to get her attention and Daryl eyed him with cold malice. She was both beautiful and oblivious and when she failed to notice the guy he tried again, this time touching her arm.

“Oh!” She started, fumbling with the earbuds. “I'm sorry.”

“Don't be,” Sweater dude grinned. “What are you listening to?”

“Oh,” She was all wide blinking eyes and sweetness. “Uh, Jamey Johnson.”

“I don't think I've heard of her,” He said. “You seem really in to it. Is she any good?”

Daryl snorted. Goldilocks smiled.

“He is very good,” She corrected gently.

“Wow,” Grandpa sweater chuckled. “Don't I look like a presumptuous jerk. I'm so sorry.”

“It's fine,” She forgave.

“I'm Trevor,” He introduced himself, extending his hand.

“Beth,” She replied, one earbud still in her ear, the other between her fingers. She looked uncomfortable as she slowly reached for his proffered hand.

“Beth,” Trevor smiled, holding her hand for way too damn long. “It's lovely to meet you. I've got to say, I cannot wait to tell my family and friends about this exact moment.”

“For the love of God,” Daryl grumbled under his breath. She must have heard him because she turned slightly in her seat.

She looked a little confused. It was that damn innocence. She didn't even know when she was being hit on. “I'm sorry, but why?”

Trevor was still smiling. “So I can tell them I was touched by an angel.”

Daryl couldn't help but bark. “You've got to be kidding me with this shit.”

Trevor turned in his seat, looking at him with contempt. “Is there a problem, bruh?”

Daryl swiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. “Yeah man, that's got to be the worst damn pickup line I have ever heard.”

“Oh, and I'm sure you think you could do better?” Ugly Sweater Trevor challenged.

She had definitely taken notice of him now. She was staring at him with the sweetest baby blues he had ever seen. He could see the curiosity in her eyes. The corner of her mouth turned up in a bit of amusement. Damn if she wasn't the prettiest thing.

“I know I can.”

He liked the way the color rose in her cheeks and the way she rolled her lips to try to keep from smiling.

“First off,” Daryl drawled. “I wouldn't say a damn thing. Not about how she's got the prettiest eyes I've ever seen. Nothing about her smile.”

“No?” Beth asked while Trevor humphed. 

“Nu-uh,” He graveled.

“So what would you say then?” She asked, her voice soft and just a little shy. She was looking in to his eyes, sucking him in.

“Nothin’,” He answered coarsely.

He watched her lips pucker; her eyes sparkle. He knew he had her - hook, line, and sinker.

His sandwich finished, he licked at his fingers, first his forefinger then his thumb before wiping his hands on his thighs, the picture of poor upbringing. She didn't look away and neither did he.

“‘Mere,” He growled, reaching out for her. 

No hesitation; no thinking, she took his hand and allowed him to pull her from her seat with a rough yank. With a surprised yelp she tumbled in to his lap. Sliding a callus covered hand up to her face, he pulled her in closer grazing his lips over hers. He could feel her body go soft against his. Yeah, he had her for sure.

“What the hell?” Douchebag Trevor in his old man sweater demanded.

Adjusting her on his lap, Daryl reached a hand in to his coverall pocket. “You forgot this on the kitchen sink this morning.”

“Oh!” Beth cried, holding out her hand for him to slip the ring back on her finger where it belonged.

“Wait, you know him?” Trevor asked.

Beth beamed, twisting her wedding band familiarly around her finger. “Uh huh.”

Daryl looked smug as the guy sulked off, his tail between his legs. He didn't feel bad for him, not even a little. Served him right, hitting on a man’s wife. 

Her arms around his neck, Beth wiggled her ass against his crotch. “So handsome, come here often?” 

Daryl smirked, “That the best you got, girl?”

**Author's Note:**

> Hit me with the comments and kudos!


End file.
